Is sincere the sorrow of those who cry in secret
by fra235
Summary: the pain is a real thing, who everyone feels at least once. A life without pain, doesn't exist, it's not contemplated, not perceived.  Love is suffering!
1. Chapter 1

Title: is sincere the sorrow of those who cry in secret  
>Marco Valerio Marziale (38 BC– 104 BC), Latin Poet. <p>

Summary: _"the pain is a real thing, who everyone feels at least once. A life without pain, doesn't exist, it's not contemplated, not perceived._

_Love is suffering!"_

Spoilers: 6x18 Lauren

Warnings: no

Note: I say "i'm sorry" before you read, for all grammar errors! English is not my first language!

Note 1: Thanks to my friends who push me to share this and other ff on this site.

Note 2: the title is a Quote of Latin Poet Marco Valerio Marziale (38 BC– 104 BC)

enjoy :)

I spoke with the team.

I wanted to encourage them,

Be at their side after your "death".

Each one reacted in very different ways.

Each one reacted in a different way from what I expected.

I was waiting for furious anger in Derek, but I found hold anger, which was facing troubles to come out.

Because Derek didn't want to let it out.

If his anger got out, it was like admitting to himself that you would never come back, it was like admitting that he got there late, admitting a defeat!

Your loss destroyed him, but I understand… he's seeing the scene, all over again, almost like an extra corporal experience.

He sees you lying on the ground in the room, with a table steak in your chest.

And he runs,

And the more he sees himself running, the more he wonders if he couldn't get there faster, if he couldn't come before you lose too much blood, before Doyle stabbed you.

Get There before!

This is Derek's rage! Don't be there in time.

And when he looks at your empty desk, with your stuff on it…

The nightmare starts again…

And he asks himself, again, what he didn't see… what he missed…

Why he didn't notice something wrong in your behaviour.

Why he didn't do something.

He blames himself…

And he will do that for a long time.

My God, I understand him!

I lived and lived again tens, hundreds, thousands times the phone call from Haley, but the result doesn't change, I was exactly where Derek is: she's dead!

I can't help my friend to face his anger, I can't force him to scream, to externalize his frustration and his pain… I can only stay at his side, waiting for his anger to change into the next feeling


	2. Chapter 2

**Capitolo 2**

«Since the first time I saw him, he rose in me, as he did in you, parents' instincts.

We talked too many time about our concern for his social life.

Because, we know well, if his intelligence will give him economic stability, a roof on his head and food… at the same time, his intelligence makes him a social outcast, unappreciated.

And we, as psychologists and profilers but first, as his friends, we know that Reid sits too many times on his couch, in the dark, on Saturday nights, his elbows on his knees and the palms on his temples, asking himself:

"Why?"

"why don't people tolerate my words, don't understand my jokes?"

Why don't girls understand my lifestyle, my thoughts? Why do they avoid me?

How many times did we go, you or I, at his place, on Saturday night?

For a pizza and movie, maybe a Polish one of 5/6 hours?

We were bored during the movies!

But we stayed with him.

He watched the movie, talked and as good masters of the house do, he cooked pop corn and put the beers in the fridge.

but now, you aren't here anymore...

I feel near him.

I feel a father/friend/brother.

He's living your death like the abandon of his father,

He's living your death like the abandon of Gideon.

He is hurt.

The boy is hurt.

And like a child, despite his huge brain, he doesn't understand.

He doesn't understand that sometimes, he is human!

He isn't a cyber-computer, cold and without feelings

He misses you.  
>And, some days, when I miss you, I buy pop corn and I go to Reid's.<p>

In this period, he's deepening the cinema of Roberto Rossellini, with _Neorealist Trilogy_. We watched "Rome, Open City"; last week we saw "Paisà" and we will watch "Germany, year zero" in a short time.

You would have liked them, because Reid wants to watch the movies in original language, and in this case, it's complicated. You know very well, Rossellini made movies in Italy, in Italian, but using Italian dialect... and there are many different types of dialects, in Italy.

Sometimes, I watch him and smile when he get excited for a scene, and stops the DVD, explaining to me the historical context, so a movie of one hour and half, lasts three hours.

Sometimes, he lowers his gaze on the floor, and says that he misses you.

Only God knows if I wouldn't want to beat a hand on his shoulder, and say that I understand him, as I would do with an adult… or hug him and say that I miss you too, like I would do with a child. »


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

«Derek said to me, that someone saw her, in front of your photo.

She said clearly to Derek, that she can't help saying Hello to you every morning.

She misses you so much, but she surprised me, during our talking for the valuation, with her reaction to your loss.

If I didn't know what I know, I would ask her if she knows that you are dead, and that you aren't alive, on an island with Elvis.

If I didn't know what I know, I would ask her if she knows that you aren't really dead…

But I know, what I know!

So, I smile to her and stop.

She wanted to tell me only beautiful things about you!

and I swear...

I know that's not good

I know I can't think this way..

But I wanted to send her away!

I wanted to get up, and look at her as I do with Jack, when he puts the water in the shampoo's bottle.

Because it is hard for me!

It's hard to hear the team crying for your death.

It's hard ratiocinate with an angry Derek, or with an emotional Reid.

But… they talk about: hurt, anger, they talk about a feeling that becomes also a physic sensation.

That feeling of not being able to breath, because we miss that person so much that our brain forgets how to breath, forgets how to reason…

And so I prefer, even if it hurts as hell, check on the two young men of the team, verify (especially the first times) if they do the most elementary work, like eating, sleeping...just taking care about themself…

Because, Emily, we know it; I lived all this personally, and you lived that beside me, when the pain for a loss is so strong that you can't take it anymore, you ignore yourself, in an attempt to soothe in some way the enormous sorrow caused by the loss of the beloved one.

Meeting Penelope was heartbreaking.

She wanted to talk about yours funniest moments, what you did to and when you made her laugh.

And believe me, if I wasn't in my office, but in the living room of my house…I would have cried.

I wanted to yell that I don't want to hear these things, because they feels like stabs to my chest.

I wanted to say to Penelope that she must be hurt, she must cry, be desperate, screaming. She has to hate Doyle, and maybe, a little bit also she must hate you, because you put yourself in this situation, and we are suffering too much for your death.

I smiled and let her talk, instead.

She told me many things.

Especially about your girls' night.

She told me that you had always someone around, some player, and I smiled thinking about you pushing away some gorgeous man, like a boring fly.

She told me about when her and JJ insisted with you to date Mick, the English man of Cooper's team, and then, she said, you dated him once, but she didn't know why, you didn't want to meet him anymore.

But I, Yes! I know why!

Penelope cried!

She cried tons of tears of pain because of your death.  
>But, if I talk as a psychologist, and not like a human sentimentally involved, I can say she's reworking the mourning in the best way, better than the rest of us, provided there is a "better way" to survive a pain so disheartening.<p>

I try to explain better….

She passed the "anger stage" , and either the "depression stage"

She's living the "acceptance stage"…

And, her way to accept your death, is remembering when you was alive, and made her smile…

How to blame her?

If I could choose which of the five stages of grief live…

I want to live the stage she's living, and in the same way she's facing it. »


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Dave…

What can I say on Dave?

He has almost unmasked me!

Anyway…

I should have analyzed him, but he has analyzed me first.

I had to stop him, because he understood in a couple of questions that my grief is different.

I asked him the same questions he asked me.

I answered his questions with questions…

I avoided eyes contact…

I offered him a good whisky, with the intention to prevent him from 'reading' me.

I'm not a good liar!

If I were Dave, I would have understood that I was hiding something…

But not the pain…

Dave immediately understands how someone feels, he just looks at you, and knows.

He said that it has been a tough year, and he's right!

He said that I suffer in private, and he's right.

My God! Dave is always right.

I sensed his impotence, his pain, when he talked about the team like a family, and when he said he's loving this family every day more, maybe more than all his ex wives.

He had tears in his eyes when he said all this. I looked away, I didn't want to be moved.

I wanted to confess to him, to my mentor and friend, that you are not dead.

My suffering isn't because of your earthly loss, but of your physical loss .

You are not here.

I can't look at you, talk to you, smile to you…

But you are not dead.

I really don't know if it would be better to accept your death, or to live knowing that you are alive, but I don't know where are you, I don't know if there is someone who's protecting you, I don't know anything…

Maybe I'll meet you one day , and I won't even recognize you.

I'll walk at your side, look straight to your face, and I won't know who you are.

But, every day,

I will be here, at 8pm.

On this tomb.

In front of this cold stone with an empty coffin who I carried. I'll always be here, crying.

Crying for a co-worker, a friend, confidant…

…

… …

… … …

How long are you there?

I suddenly ask.

"I come to this new tomb since a couple of weeks, at 7.55 pm, and I listen to you."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"I listened when you told about the grief of the team, I listened when you told about the first baseball match of Jack, and about the new boyfriend of Jessica.

I cried with Penelope, I was angry with Derek, and I was scared with Reid, and my heart was breaking when you told about Rossi's love declaration.

But I was surprised not to hear about you.

You…. What do you feel?

Are you suffering?"

"I wake up every morning, and I realize that the other half of my bed is empty.

In the drowsiness, just before the alarm rings, I smell your essence, your presence at my side. I feel your hair on my chest, the smell of your vanilla shampoo.

Was I feeling the same when Haley died?

No!

I didn't feel the stabbing pain in heart.

I didn't feel the guilt.

I didn't spend nights crying.

I didn't see, again and again your death, in my arms.

It's a different pain.

Is not more or less important.

Is not more or less painful.

These are two different types of grief.

If the brain reworks the mourning for a death, and the person comes to accept the death...For a loss like yours, without a real death, the brain fatigues to rework the mourning.

Because that' s not a real mourning!

You are dead for the team.

But not for me.

So, I watch around every corner, behind every look...If I can recognize you!

I observe everything, the mail, the advertising, the txt… everything!

I analyze, because maybe they "say", you are saying, something to me... or is it only waste paper?

I anxiously listen to the messages on my voice mail, because maybe you called.

Maybe, you are alone, in the dark.

Maybe you need help.

Maybe Doyle has found you…

Every night, I leave a cover on your side of the bed, because you were always cold in the night.

And you were tangled up in me during the winter.

How can you sleep without being hugged?

…

Was I feeling the same when Haley died?

No

Maybe it's better.

You are not in a cold tomb for real.

Maybe it's worst

Hope is paralyzing.

You don't go out, waiting for a sign, for a call… something that increases the feeling even more!

And if signs won't arrive…

You still wait!

Because you tell yourself lies,

a lot of lies about why a sign has not arrived yet."

"I am here, now!"

"How long?"

"I needed to see you. I want a chance to say "Goodbye", I want to sleep tangled up in you, one more time."

"It's too long time that I am on this empty tomb , if someone looks at me, sees that I talk with a widow, and we don't look each other. Could you follow me at home?"

"I'll be there in 30 minutes, I'll walk in the alley and I'll come me inside your building by the garage, can you leave the door opened?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 **

The embarrassment between us is noticeable.

We had an affair for months, from Haley's death until when you are gone.

After standard questions about Jack, where is him and what's he's doing, … paying attention not to speak about our feelings, silence falls inexorably between us.

I offer you an espresso, and I go in the kitchen to put the mocha on the fire.

I can hear you coming near me, hugging me from behind.

You lay your head on my back, and meanwhile I lay my arms on yours, you regularize your breath with mine.

We breath at the same time…

That gives us a sensation of familiarity.

I turn and facing you, taking your face in my hands, I gently lay my lips, a little bit shy, on yours. I wait.

I wait for a sign, for an invitation to continue.

Or for a slap, pushing me away…

But why, am I waiting for a slap?

You open your lips for me, and I take possession of your mouth.

I can experience, exploring like a new thing, but with a knowing taste.

I missed your lips, I missed your mouth on mine, I missed your hands on my back, through my hairs.

I'm involved with passion, a passion that has never slept in this months.

A passion that I missed

Especially in the morning drowsiness, when I seemed to feel your presence in the bed, and I looked for your smell in the room, with eyes closed, I looked for your body between the sheets, at the end I realized you weren't there... and never will be.

I put my hands under your blouse and you break the kiss.

Our lips are swollen from the impetuosity of the kiss, our breath is short for the emotion.

You turn off the fire under the mocha, and drive me in the bedroom.

I hug you tight and breath, I fill my lungs with your perfume, and then I make you sit on the edge of the bed.

I sit near you, and take your hands in mine.

I caress your face with the back of the hand, trying to find in my memory the last time that we made love, trying to memorize every millimetre of your face, your eyes, your smile…

Because, I don't know if you will be with me tomorrow morning!

You undo the tie, and I watch you…

I watch you meanwhile you unbutton every single button of my shirt, and then you pass your little hands on my naked chest, and I shiver under your touch.

I stop myself and concentrate to feel every single touch.

We make love many times this night.

In the morning, I smell your perfume in the room, in the sheets, on the cushion.

In the drowsiness, I reach out a hand, to pull you to me once again.

I look for you to hug you, before you disappear in the shadows of DC.

But, the half of the bed is empty.

One more time, I believe I dreamed about you.

Only the declaration of love on the mirror says that what I lived is real.

I come back to bed, between the sheets that are witness of our passion, and I fall asleep intoxicated by your scent, before I must get up, go to the BAU and go to the cemetery this evening at 8 pm.

**END**


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